


The Only Truth I Know

by eggsaladstain



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggsaladstain/pseuds/eggsaladstain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Grant Ward points a gun at Skye – while a traitor, while brainwashed, while undercover – and one time he pulls the trigger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Traitor

They will call him a traitor.

A lying, back-stabbing son of a bitch, and probably a few other choice words as well. But traitors are people with ever-shifting loyalties, who defect to the enemy and switch sides. He's not a traitor. He's been on the other side this entire time.

 _How does it feel_ , Garrett asks, _to finally be done with your cover?_ He rubs his wrists, they're red where the handcuffs used to be, and for a brief moment, Ward thinks that he deserves it.

The thought startles him.

That's not him. That's the other Grant Ward, the man he pretended to be for far too long, the man whose skin he shed the instant he killed three agents.

That's not him. Not anymore.

 _It feels right_ , he responds with a smirk, an expression that would been out of place before, but not now, now that he's back where he belongs.

Garrett chuckles in front of him. _It's good to have you back, son_.

Son. It's been a long time since anyone has called him that. His own father never uttered those words, not to him, not to his brothers. He has never been anyone's son. Not until John Garrett. Garrett, who taught him everything he knows, who made him the man he is today. He would be nothing without this man, and he would die for him, would kill for him.

And now, he has.

His gaze shifts to the bodies on the floor. Collateral damage. Necessary casualties. But he can't tear his eyes away from the woman, her long, dark hair spilling over her still, bloody hand. When he looks at her, he sees another woman, lying bleeding in a cellar.

When the times comes, will he have to shoot her too?

When the times comes, will he even be able to?

Garrett clears his throat expectantly, jerking him out of his thoughts. This is not the time for distractions. Not now, not when he's already come this far.

 _It's good to be back, sir_ , he replies with a nod, but even as the words escape his lips, he can sense a flicker of doubt forming in his mind.

It doesn't feel good.

Nothing about what he's done feels good.

He leans back into the seat and exhales a heavy breath. This is what Garrett had warned him about, getting emotionally attached, but he didn't listen, he never thought it could happen to him.

It did.

Somewhere along the line, the loyalty he was pretending to feel for his team turned into something real. They changed him – Coulson, May, Fitz, Simmons, Skye.

Skye.

She changed him the most.

She's the one who made him feel like he wasn't alone, who understood him when he wasn't himself, who kissed him when she thought he could die.

They will call him a traitor.

He wonders if she will too.

…

It's been months since he last saw her when he gets the order to kill her.

 _Take her out_ , Garrett says, as if it's just that easy, and if the target were anyone else, maybe it would be. But it's not easy, not when it's her.

 _Take her out,_ Garrett repeats, _or I will._

There's a cruel, taunting edge to his voice, and for the first time, Ward sees him in a new light – not as the man he looked up to, but as a traitor who switched allegiances for a cause he barely believes in.

He doesn't trust himself to speak, afraid he'll saying something to betray his true feelings, so he just nods, ever the loyal soldier, and sets out into the night.

The Bus is quiet when he sneaks on board and he wonders how they can bear to sleep, as if everything is alright, as if their world won't be shattered come morning. Her room is just where he remembers it and when he stands outside the door, he can hear her soft breathing. He exhales quietly as he steps inside and in that moment, his breath matches hers.

There she is.

Facing the door, lying on her side, her dark hair splayed around her face. She looks so peaceful and he hopes she's dreaming, because this is the last dream she'll ever have, the one she'll never wake from.

Garrett will call him weak for killing her while she's asleep, but for Ward, it's the one small act of defiance he can still commit. He can't save her, but he can give her a quick, painless death and spare her the knowledge that he was the one who pulled the trigger.

He raises his gun at her, and watches her chest rise and fall with each breath. The next one will be her last, he tells himself, but then another breath passes, and another, and another. He can't do it. He can't pull the trigger.

His hand starts to shake from the tension and he steadies himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

_You came back._

Her voice reaches his ears and his eyes snap open as his hand tightens around the weapon. She's still lying there, eyes closed, and if it weren't for her lips moving, he would've thought she were still sleeping.

 _I knew you'd come back_ , she says as she opens her eyes and stands up. Before he can react, she pulls out her own weapon and aims it straight at his chest.

 _You've been awake this whole time_ , he says, and she nods, her gaze still trained on him. He can't quite tell the look on her face – there's anger there, and something else - but he knows she's not afraid. She's never been afraid of him.

 _Why didn't you say anything_ , he asks, making an effort to keep his tone even. He can't let her see how much she affects him, he can't let her see how much this kills him.

She looks away for a moment, then turns back to face him. _I wanted to see_ , she responds, _if you were the man I thought you were._

Her gaze pierces through him and he can feel himself getting lost in it. He's not sure he'll ever be able to kill her, not now, not after he's looked into her eyes again.

 _And?_   He asks, _Am I?_ He knows how she'll respond and braces himself for the _no,_ but she surprises him, as she always does, and lowers her weapon, tossing it on the pillow.

When she answers, her voice cracks. _Yes,_ she nods. _Yes, you are._

His hand falls limp to his side, the gun dangling from his fingers uselessly. She takes a step towards him, and then another, and then another, until there's just a breath between them.

 _How can you still say that?_   He looks down at her as she places her hand on his chest. His heart beats underneath her palm, and he wonders if she knows that she has the power to break it.

When she answers, her voice is strong again. _Because I believe in you, Grant._ Her tone is firm, insistent. _I'll always believe in you._

He sighs heavily, and curls his fingers around hers. _He told me to kill you_ , he says after a moment. _Garrett. He said he'd do it if I didn't. And now that I've disobeyed him, he'll kill me too._

She looks up at him, her eyes shining in the dark. _What will you do?_

He shakes his head and takes a step back, putting his gun back in the holster, _Run, I guess._ _Run, and try to kill him first._

She steps towards him again and places her hand against his cheek. _Do you think you can?_   She asks, so quietly he almost doesn't hear her.

He wants nothing more than to say yes – yes, he'll kill him for her, yes, he'll keep her safe, but he knows that's not true. There's not point lying to her, not anymore. _I don't know_ , he answers. _I don't know._

Exhaling a shaky breath, she gives him a small, sad smile. _Then I guess this is goodbye._

 _Skye,_ he starts, but she cuts him off by closing the distance between them. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer, feeling her sigh against his lips.

He lets her kiss him that night because he knows it will be the last time.

He kisses her back because he doesn't want it to be. 


	2. Betrayed

Coulson gathers them in the conference room - what's left of it, anyways - to tell them that Ward is a traitor.

_Agent Hand is dead,_  he says flatly.  _Ward killed her. He's been working for Garrett this whole time._

A silence hangs heavily in the air. She waits for the punchline, but it never comes. Ward, a traitor? Grant Ward? She wonders if Coulson's even talking about the same man, because the Grant Ward she knows would never do something like that, would never betray them like that. Hysterical laughter bubbles up in her throat and she clamps her mouth shut, so hard she can taste blood. The very thought is absurd - there's no way, there's no way he would ever, no, no, he wouldn't.

Would he?

No, he wouldn't.

But he did.

A hand brushes her arm and she flinches. Coulson stands beside her, and when she lifts her head to look at him, she sees a quiet fury in his eyes.

 _Skye,_  he says, his gaze softening.  _Are you okay?_

She blinks at him dazedly. Is she okay, knowing that a member of their team betrayed them? Is she okay, knowing that her own SO had been working for the enemy this entire time? Is she okay, knowing that the man she cared about was lying to her all along?

Is she okay? No, she's not.

What she says is,  _I'll be fine._

Coulson squeezes her shoulder gently.  _I'm here if you need to talk_ , he murmurs before he leaves.

She gives a wry chuckle as she sinks into a chair. Ward had offered to talk too, and now, she wonders what they would have discussed, what he would have said to her, whether or not it would have been true. Was any of it real? The man that he was when he was with her, did he ever exist at all? She thinks back to everything he's ever said to her, every moment they've ever shared, as if she could analyze her memories like a black box and pinpoint the exact moment everything went wrong.

But there is no black box. There is only her, left behind in the wreckage.

She sighs as her foot absently kicks a piece of glass, then leans forward and picks it up. Tuning it over in her hand, she winces when it scratches her finger. This isn't the first time she's been hurt. This isn't the first time she's felt this particular mix of devastation and disappointment. She felt it before when she bounced around foster homes, when she found out that Miles had sold information, but this one, this one cuts the deepest.

The shattered glass falls from her hand as she leans back into the chair. A wave of exhaustion hits her and she closes her eyes, curling her feet up on the seat. This is the worst part. This is the worst part of this whole tangled mess - the moment when she lets go of the pain and realizes that deep down, she just misses him.

She misses the way he laughs, how he's always protecting her, the safety and care she feels when she's with him.

She just. misses. him.

Her eyes snap open as she sits up in the chair. There it is, the thing that's been gnawing at her, the thing she's been too afraid, too ashamed to admit. Despite everything he's done, all the lies he's told, she still misses him.

Coulson called him a traitor, and the rest of the team will too. But it doesn't matter what they say.

She still misses him.

She still believes in him.

…

The footsteps wake her up. So soft she thinks she's imagined it, or maybe dreamed it, but then they get closer and closer and then, they stop just outside her door.

It's him. It has to be. She would recognize that sound anywhere, all heavy and light at the same time.

He passes through the door with a quiet shuffle and there's a faint click that seems to echo in the darkness. She knows that sound. It's his gun, and she doesn't need to open her eyes to know that he's pointing it at her.

This isn't the reunion she hoped for. This isn't how she wanted to see him again, but she can't say she's surprised either. Ever since he left, she's known it could come down to this, a gun between them, and silence. She's just glad she's not the one who has to pull the trigger.

The seconds pass by as she lies in her bed, waiting for the moment it all ends.

But it never comes.

She hears him breathe, a deep, slow inhale, and it breaks her heart a little, his hesitation. Even after all this time, he still can't bring himself to hurt her. Even after all this time, he still can't erase his instinct to protect her.

But she doesn't need protecting. Not anymore, not from him. He is the one who needs saving this time.

She whispers to him in the dark and hopes her voice finds him. When he finally meets her eyes, she can see how much he's missed her too. She memorizes that look on his face, even as it changes from longing to surprise when she pulls out her own gun and aims it calmly at him. But he must know that she could never shoot him, no more than he could ever shoot her. She doesn't want him to bear it alone, that's all, the guilt of even thinking that he could.

His voice is gruff when he speaks and she wills herself not to melt.  _Why didn't you say anything?,_  he asks, as if that is the question that haunts him.

 _I wanted to see,_  she explains,  _if you were the man I thought you were._

 _And?_  He asks,  _Am I?_   There's a sharp edge to his voice, full of doubt and self-loathing. He's too hard on himself, just like he's always been. What she wouldn't give to make him see himself the way she sees him.

She throws her gun away when she answers.  _Yes,_  she whispers.  _Yes, you are,_  and those are the words that undo him. He unravels before her very eyes and when she steps closer, placing a hand on his chest, she can feel his heart beating just for her.

There are so many things she still wants to tell him, so many promises she wants to make. But there is no future she can offer him, no happy ending he can give her, not here, in secret, not here, in the dark. She'll have to settle for this one moment, where she belongs to him and he belongs to her, where all they have is each other.

When she feels his arms around her, she knows it will be the last time.

When she kisses him in the dark, she doesn't want it to be.


	3. Brainwashed

There is someone in his head. A voice that isn't his own, spitting thoughts in his ear, dangerous, poisonous thoughts that cloud his mind and distort everything he knows.

It feels like he's drowning, sinking under the weight of a heavy, black water, and that isn't even the worst part. No, the worst part comes after, when he breaks the surface, gasping in those brief moments of lucidity, suddenly aware of who he is and what he's done.

He blinks and three agents are dead.

He blinks and the gun is a few rounds lighter in his hand.

Something snaps inside him at the sight of the bodies, and for a flickering second, the guilt and the rage are enough to drown out the voice whispering in his ear. His finger twitches on the trigger, and he aches to drive a bullet into the man smirking in front of him. But then, just as quickly, the veil drops back in place and his hand stills at his side.

He nods and forgets who he is.

He nods and becomes someone else.

The darkness creeps though him, clinging to his bones and twisting his mind. It preys on the good within him, sucking it out until there's nothing left and when it's done, he's a hollow husk, a blank slate. When it's done, he is empty.

Satisfied, it retreats deep within him, burrowing into the black parts of his heart, and he closes his eyes as it settles here. The voice returns with promises of pain and blood and death, and he knows these are promises he will be called upon to keep.

The man drones on and on in front of him, and he is vaguely aware that he's heard this story before. He remembers it, and he begins to remember other things too.

A team he was once loyal to, familiar faces he was forced to leave behind.

One face in particular is burned into his mind. Earnest brown eyes, framed by long, dark hair. Lips turned up in the hint of a smile. He clings to the memory of her face, even as the presence in his mind tries to smother the light.

His eyes snap open before he loses himself completely.

The last thing he remembers is a kiss.

...

The woman stands calmly in front of him. He knows her somehow, from another life, or another time maybe, a time before the darkness took hold. There's a sadness in her eyes, but she doesn't cry, doesn't make a sound, just stares straight at him like she can see into his soul.

The voice in his head demands her life, and in one swift motion, he raises his gun, but before he can pull the trigger, she speaks.

_Grant._

His name falls gently from her lips and lands somewhere deep inside his heart. With just one word, she unleashes a flood of memories and the fragmented images bombard him until he's not sure what's real and what isn't, until he can't distinguish between past and present.

There's too much noise, too many overlapping voices in his head and he shuts his eyes to drown them out. The one that clamors for her life is still the loudest of them all and he tightens his grip on the weapon.

 _Grant,_  she says, closer this time,  _this isn't you._

And just like that, everything falls silent. Her voice is the only thing he hears and when he looks at her, he remembers. He remembers the last time she said those words, when he lost himself in the well, when she pulled him out of the dark.

 _This isn't you,_  she repeats, reaching out to touch him. Her hand presses gently against the side of his face, and he feels like he can finally breathe again.

When he blinks, he recognizes Skye standing before him.

When he blinks, he remembers who he is.

 _Come back to me,_  she murmurs, and he leans into her touch, brushing his lips across her palm.

 _Come back to me,_ she whispers.

And he does.


	4. Anchor

 

There’s a nagging in her head - an annoying, persistent feeling of unease and uncertainty. She swats it away but it just comes back, louder, stronger, until it engulfs her mind and threatens to drown her.

Something’s wrong, it whispers. Something’s _wrong_.

She sweeps her gaze around the broken remains of the plane. There is so much that’s wrong here - the bullet holes in the windows, the shattered glass on the floor, the emptiness in her pocket where her badge would have been - but that’s not what bothers her.

What bothers her is the absence at her side, the man who isn’t there.

It's not the first time he's been gone – he's had plenty of missions without her – but in the aftermath of all that has happened, all that they've lost, it's the first time she's afraid he won't return. It's the first time she's worried about who he'll be when he does.

She can't stop thinking about the man that he killed. That look in his eyes is burned into her memory – the devastation when he found out it was the wrong man, like it destroyed a little piece of him too. She wonders what he will do to the right man, to the real Clairvoyant, to John Garrett. She wonders what it would do to _him,_ if he killed another man, one he used to trust.

She doesn't want that blood on his hands. She doesn't want to be the reason for it.

But it's too late for that now. There _is_ blood on his hands and it _is_ because of her, because he was protecting her. Even now, he's out there for that very reason and she only hopes that he doesn't lose himself in the process. If he does, she hopes she can bring him back.

The man who taught her how to be an agent, who asked her out for a drink, who kissed her before a fight – that's who he is. That's who she wants him to be, who she wants him to stay.

She remembers that kiss.

She hopes he does too.

…

The next time she sees him, he’s pointing a gun at her chest.

But it's not just the weapon in his hand that scares her, it's the look in his eyes. Blank. Emotionless. Cold.

She freezes instantly as the fear grips her. She's been in this situation before, she knows how it feels, how much it hurts, but even being shot twice in the stomach would be preferable to standing here, helpless, as this man kills her.

_This_ man.

She doesn't recognize him like this. This isn't the man that she knows. Frantic, she tries to come up with something to say, anything to bring him back, but then she sees his finger move on the trigger and the only thought she has is his name.

_Grant_.

For a moment, she's sure she's too late. She's sure the bullet is already making it way towards her, and as she braces for the impact, she realizes that she wouldn't mind dying, not with his name as the last breath on her lips.

But the bullet never comes.

He's just standing there in front of her, gun in hand, unmoving, so still she wonders if he's even breathing. She takes a small step forward, waiting for his reaction, and then another, and another until she's close enough to see something stirring behind his eyes. Confusion flashes across his face, then a brief hint of recognition.

She exhales a sigh of relief.

There he is. He's been here the whole time, just lost beneath the surface.

_Grant_ , she takes a step closer and offers his name as a lifeline.

_This isn't you_ , she reminds him. _This isn't you_.

She runs her hand along the side of his face and places it carefully against his cheek. He blinks, startled, and she sees the darkness dissolving from his gaze.

_Come back to me_ , she urges, and he closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. When he presses his lips, soft and warm, against her palm, that's when she knows he's back. That's when she knows she's found him again.

_Come back to me_ , she murmurs.

And finally, he does. 


	5. Undercover

He doesn't say goodbye.

It all happens so fast - one minute, he's struggling to understand that Garrett, the man he looked up to, the man who was like a father to him, is the real Clairvoyant and the next, Coulson is pulling him aside and asking him to be a double agent.

_We need eyes inside Hydra,_ he says.  _You're the only one who can get in._ There's an urgency to his tone, an intensity on his face that Ward had only seen a few times before, and he knows he doesn't have a choice, but a part of him still wishes it didn't have to be him. The idea of spending time with the man who trained him, who hurt Skye and betrayed them, it sickens him and he's not sure he'll be able to pull it off. He's not sure he'll be able to hide how much he hates him.

_Ward?_  Coulson asks, shaking him from his thoughts.  _I know how much I'm asking of you, but we need you for this. It's the only way to protect what's left of the agency. It's the only way to protect…_  he pauses, looking at him knowingly.  _The team,_  he finally says.  _It's the only way to protect the team._

But they both know it's not really the team he's thinking about, and in that moment, Ward is grateful that he doesn't say her name, that he doesn't try to manipulate him by using her as motivation. No, Coulson would never do something like that. He's not like Garrett.

And that's all it takes. The thought of that man and everything he's done to them, everything he's done to her. He'll take the mission, of course he will. He'll do this,  _this_ , and so many other things for her, but the irony is not lost on him that the only way for him to protect her now is to leave her behind. His chest tightens at the thought and he wonders how long it will be before he sees her again. He wonders  _if_  he'll see her again.

This isn't like other missions. This time, it's personal, and when emotions get involved, that's when mistakes happen. That's when things go south. He knows this, and he knows he needs to keep a level head, but when the time comes, when the time comes to face Garrett, he's not sure he'll be able to keep his emotions out of it. He's not sure he'll be able to choose justice instead of revenge, and when the time comes, he's not sure he'll want to. Either way, this is the first mission he knows he won't return from unscathed.

Coulson looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak, and there's only one thing on his mind.

_Sir, if something happens, if I don't make it back…_  He struggles to find the right words, an accurate representation of what he's feeling, what he's afraid of.  _If I don't make it back…_

_I'll keep her safe,_  Coulson finishes, a determined understanding in his eyes. He doesn't try to reassure him that everything will be fine. He doesn't bother, because more than anyone else, Coulson knows what it's like to not make it back from a mission, and even worse, what it's like to return a different man than the one who left.

_I'll keep her safe_ , he promises, and when he says it, Ward believes him. The weight in his chest lifts, just barely, and he nods, content in the knowledge that she'll be protected. It doesn't matter what happens to him or how long he'll be gone or whether or not he'll return.

She'll be safe.

That's all that matters.

…

He returns to the Bus two months later, with Garrett and a squad of Hydra agents. They swarm the plane, under orders to seize the team for questioning, but Ward notices a glint in Garrett's eyes and he wonders how many of the agents have actually been told not to capture, but to kill.

It's eerily quiet when they make their way on board, almost suspiciously so. The lights are dimmed and as he makes his way through the cabin, he smirks with the realization that they're walking straight into a trap. Sure enough, as they round the corner, May emerges from the shadows, swiftly dispatching three agents, and he takes advantage of the ensuing commotion to knock out a few of his own.

_Where's Garrett_? She calls as the remaining agents crowd them, and he looks around in vain, but the man's nowhere to be seen. Before he can respond, a scream cuts through the air and a chill runs up his spine when he realizes whose voice it is. He shoots May a desperate, pleading look and takes off as soon as she nods, racing through the hallway, hoping all the while that he's not too late.

_Skye!_

There's no answer, just more fighting by the stairs - Coulson against a group of agents while Fitz and Simmons provide surprisingly good cover from behind the couches.  _I think they're in the lab!_  Coulson grunts as a fist catches him in the chin.  _Ward, hurry!_

He nods sharply, racing down the stairs, his weapon drawn and ready, as he prepares himself for whatever he'll find. But no amount of preparation could steady his hand when he finally walks through the door, when he finally sees her and freezes where he stands.

Her face is ashen and there's a bruise on her cheek, a split in her lip, and he feels rage well up in his chest at the thought of anyone raising a hand to her. Garrett's arm is pulled tight against her throat and his hand presses a gun to her temple, but that doesn't stop her from squirming and clawing frantically in his grip.

So she's a fighter to the very end. He wouldn't expect anything less, and if the situation weren't so dire, he'd be proud of how far she's come, but right now, the only thing he can feel is fear. His eyes narrow as Garrett holds his gaze, slamming the butt of his weapon into her face. The fight leaves her instantly as she whimpers and falls still, and Ward can't help himself from lurching forward, stopping only when he sees the gun digging under her chin.

_Drop your weapon_ , Garrett sneers.  _You know I'll put a bullet in her faster than you can pull the trigger._

_I'll take my chances_ , he retorts and holds the gun steady in his hand. Skye mumbles something, so soft he can't hear, and a muscle twitches in his jaw as he watches a thin trail of blood drip down her face.

Garrett lets out a bark of laughter.  _No, you won't,_ he scoffs.  _Deep down, you're still that same scared boy, who couldn't save his little brother in the well. You're still helpless,_ he spits out.  _Weak._

Ward doesn't respond. He won't give him the satisfaction of getting angry, but there's another part of him that knows it's true. He  _is_  weak. He  _is_  helpless.

_You know_ , Garrett continues,  _I thought you might've been a double agent from the very beginning. I actually considered torturing and killing you._ He tightens his grip on Skye, drawing another soft groan from her blood-stained lips.  _But I'm glad I didn't. It's much better this way, making you watch as I kill the woman you love. Isn't it poetic?_ He smirks, chuckling humorlessly.  _And I don't even like poetry._

Ward risks a step forward, about to throw down his weapon and bargain with him, his life for hers, when she opens her eyes and whispers his name.

_Grant._

Her speech is slightly slurred but her gaze is sharp and focused on him.  _Grant, take the shot._

He blinks, startled, and Garrett frowns, jerking her backwards.  _Grant, you're not weak_ , she tries again, her voice louder this time.  _You're not helpless. You can beat him, you can end this!_ She lets out a strangled squeak as the arm digs into her throat.

She's a fighter to the very end. She believes in him to the very end, the way no one ever has before, and the least he can do is believe in himself too. He won't stand by and watch, not this time, not again.

_Take the shot, Grant_ , she chokes out, and her voice moves him, spurring him into action. He tightens his grip on his gun and memorizes the burning look in her eyes when she nods. By the time Garrett realizes what's about to happen, it's already too late.

He pulls the trigger, and they both fall down.

_Skye!_  Her name is raw on his lips as he rushes to her side, pulling her into his arms. He hopes he hit the right spot, he hopes she's not dead, and when he turns her over and sees the wound, he can't help but sigh in relief. It's a clean shot - straight through her shoulder, straight through Garrett's heart.

Her eyes flicker open as she sputters, coughing and gasping and bloody and moaning and most importantly,  _alive_. She's still alive.

_Can you believe,_ she wheezes,  _that this is the third time I've gotten shot because of that bastard?_ She sits up in his arms and flashes him a cheeky grin.  _Though if it had to be by anyone, I'm glad it was you._

He shakes his head in disbelief. Even now, nothing phases her, not a bullet hole, not almost dying. He tears a strip of fabric from his shirt and presses it against her wound, whispering a soft apology when she winces.

_Is it true, what he said?_ , she asks after a beat.  _That I'm the woman you love?_ She lifts her head and looks into his eyes as his hand stills against her shoulder. He doesn't want to answer her, not now, while she's bleeding, but when she looks at him like that, like he's the only one that matters, he feels the words fall from his lips before he can even think to stop them.

_Yes,_ he murmurs, leaning his forehead against hers.  _Yes, it's true. Of course it's true._

_I love you_ , he whispers gently as she sighs into his lips.

It's the only truth he knows.


	6. Returned

She would have liked to say goodbye.

Though if she's being honest, she would have really liked to say  _don't go._

_Don't go. It's too dangerous out there. You belong here, with the team. You belong here, with me._ These are the thing she would have said to him. These are the things she doesn't get a chance to.

Coulson won't tell her any details about where or why Ward's gone - she asks and asks and asks, but he keeps deflecting her questions, refusing to answer - and his deliberate vagueness is enough to convince her that he's undercover, deep behind enemy lines. He's out there, risking his life for all of them, doing what he's been trained to do, doing what he needs to do, and she's grateful, of course, but mostly, she just misses him. Mostly, she just wants him back.

It's selfish of her, wishing he would've had a choice between his mission and her, wishing that he would have chosen her. It's selfish, and she knows this, and she hates herself a little for it, but there are worse things than being selfish for love. If he never came back, that would be worse. If she never got to tell him how she felt, that would be worse too.

_Will he be okay?,_  she asks Coulson, wondering if he'll answer her this time or just avoid the question as usual.

When he sighs and whispers,  _I don't know_ , she almost wishes he hadn't answered at all.

Her shoulders sag and she lets out a shaky breath as he pulls her into an embrace.  _I wish I could tell you something different, that he'll be back soon and that everything will be fine,_ he apologizes, pressing a kiss against her hair.  _But that would be a lie._

Hooking a finger under her chin, he lifts her head up until she meets his eyes.  _I can't lie to you, Skye, but I can tell you this. He left to protect you. He's doing all of this for you._

She holds his gaze for a long moment, then nods. As much as she wishes Ward didn't have to leave, she has to remember why. She has to remember that for as much as she misses him, he's risking even more to keep her safe. And if he'll risk himself for her, she'll hold on to hope for him. The hope that he'll return, the hope that he'll be okay when he does.

_He'll come back_ , she nods, repeating it over and over in her mind, and maybe if she says it enough, it will be true. Coulson doesn't answer, but still, she lets herself believe it.

She believes in him.

That's what's important.

That's all that matters.

…

When he does return, it's been two months, and he has Garrett and a team of Hydra agents in tow. Coulson shakes her out of bed in the dead of the night -  _we have company_ , he whispers - and she bolts from her room, heading towards the lab, the way he taught her to do if anything like this ever happened.

She doesn't see anyone else as she flies down the hallway, and she hesitates for a moment, looking over her shoulder into the dark. The sounds of a fight reach her ears, and she forces herself to move, to get downstairs, to safety. Her hand shakes on the railing as she rushes down the steps and she just makes it through the door, she's just about to lock herself in when someone tackles her from behind and she tumbles hard onto the floor.

Lights dance in front of her eyes as she tries to stand up, but then she feels a fist connect with her face and she goes down again, letting out a shriek of pain.

_I knew you'd be more trouble than you were worth_ , a voice mutters from somewhere above her. She recognizes that voice - Garrett - and his tone makes her skin crawl.

She pushes herself up with a groan and stands up unsteadily, leaning against the table for support. She doesn't bother hiding the disgust in her eyes.

_Should've just killed you myself and been done with it_ , he continues, pulling out his gun lazily. He's toying with her and she hates it, she hates him.  _Well_ , he shrugs,  _better late than never I guess_.

_What are you waiting for?_ , she spits, levelling her gaze at him and letting go of the table. Her leg aches, but she forces herself to stand upright. She will not cower before this man when he kills her. She will not show him weakness.

He saunters towards her slowly and look at her in surprise.  _For Grant_ ,  _of course!_  He says as if it's obvious.  _I'm going to make him watch._ And for the first time all night, she feels fear. She realizes now, as she looks into his cold, blank gaze, how cruel he really is, and it breaks her heart to see how little he cares about the man who used to look up to him.

As he walks towards her, she hears footsteps pound down the stairs and she turns her head, about to shout a warning, but it's too late. Garrett grabs her roughly and pulls her in front of him, holding his arm at her throat and his gun at her head.

Ward enters a moment later, his own gun drawn and ready in his hand. When he sees her, he freezes, and she notices the tension in his body as he inhales, the way his eyes widen in concern.

This isn't how she imagined their reunion. This isn't how she imagined it at all.

She squirms in Garrett's grip and digs her nails into his arm, hoping she draws blood, hoping she can cause him even a fraction of the pain he's caused them. He hisses, and she smirks in satisfaction, but then something hard slams into the side of her temple and pain explodes behind her eyes as she falls still.

There's something moving in front of her, but the throbbing in her head makes it hard to concentrate on anything else, and she shuts her eyes, cursing the soft whimper that escapes her lips. Voices fill her ears as she struggles to escape the haze in her mind, and she she hears something about a bullet, something about a trigger.

_Grant_ , she tries to say, but the words come out in a jumble. He's torn between looking at her and the man behind her, and when his gaze does settle on her, she sees desperation in his eyes. Garrett laughs behind her, a harsh grating sound, and she feels an anger burn in her chest when he throws out the words  _helpless_  and  _weak,_ when she sees Ward flinch in front of her.

Their voices are still muffled to her ears, but the next thing that she hears, she holds onto.  _The woman you love_ , Garrett says, Ward's eyes widening by a fraction, and that's when she realizes he means her.

The woman he loves is her.

But before she can dwell on this, he takes a step forward, and panic hits her she sees him start to lower his gun. He's giving up. He's going to do something noble and stupid and try to sacrifice himself for her, because he  _loves_  her, and the thought warms her heart as much as it angers her. She won't let him die for her. She won't let Garrett win.

_Grant_ , she tries again, willing him to focus.  _Grant, take the shot._

He looks shocked, but she keeps going, hoping her words will reach him, even as Garrett pulls her backwards and tightens his arm against her throat.  _You can beat him_ , she calls.  _You can end this!_

His gaze never leaves her as she continues to struggle, and she stills when she notices determination spring to life in his eyes.

_Take the shot, Grant_ , she repeats, and this time, he listens.

She hears the bullet explode from his gun, feels it tear through her shoulder, and before she can make a sound, she meets the floor with a heavy thud. The weight against her throat is gone and she can breathe again, she can breathe, and the sputtering gasp that passes her lips has never felt so good. A pair of strong arms reach her, pulling her up, and a smile reaches her lips when she sees his face.

There's a deep crease in his forehead and his eyebrows are knit together in concern, but his gaze softens immediately and his shoulders shake as he sighs in relief.

She's still alive because of him. She's still alive. And she remembers what the dead man said.

_Is it true?,_ she asks, and Ward goes motionlesss against her, refusing to meet her gaze. Is it? Is she the woman he loves?

She places a hand on his cheek and guides his head up until he looks at her, hesitant and careful. She knows what she hopes the answer will be, but she wants to hear it from him. She wants to hear him say it, and her heart swells when he finally does.

_Yes,_ he says softly, leaning into her.  _I love you_ , he murmurs, and she memorizes the cadence of his voice, the care in his tone.

_I love you too_ , she answers, settling into his arms and laying her head against his chest. It's true, and she smiles to herself, letting her eyes drift shut to the rhythm of his heart.

It's true.

It's true.

_I love you_ , she breathes.

It's the only truth she knows.

…

_Fin_


End file.
